I awoke to a rain-washed day
With smells of new mown hay,
A clear crisp bite in the air:
The best time of the year.
Winter’s becoming a memory
While summer waits in the wings
With promises of pleasures sensory
Suspended till the Piet-my-vrou* sings.
From Afrikaans piet-my-vrou, literally ‘Peter my wife’, supposed
representation of the bird’s call.
Cuckoo Cuculus solitarius Piet-my-vrou
©DGA 6 November 2011 07:58